


Protect Our Love

by wenchofthewest



Category: Downton Abbey, Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent - Fandom
Genre: African-Americans, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cotton Club, Drinking, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Living Together, Love Tested, M/M, Prohibition, Racism, Segregation, Sex, Slavery discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenchofthewest/pseuds/wenchofthewest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas and Jimmy are adjusting well to their new life in New York City.  At the Cotton Club, Jimmy meets a charming musician who is used to getting what he wants, especially men.  Thomas and Jimmy find their love tested and realize they have to work to protect that which they hold so dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up where "Justice, My Love" ends (post arrival in New York), and there are a few references to events in that story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy. :)
> 
> -WW

Their flat was a single room with two windows that overlooked the street below.

There was an armoire; a small, round table with two chairs; an armchair with a side table; a floor lamp; and a small sink in the corner with a mirrored cupboard above it.

The bed was a double that pulled down from the wall and was made by Murphy Door Company. Thomas Barrow's new employer and landlord, clockmaker Garrett Lowenstein, had apologized for there just being the one bed, as he knew Thomas' friend, Jimmy Kent, would also be living with him, but it was a large bed, at least. Fighting to suppress a smile, Thomas had told Garrett that he and Jimmy would manage somehow....

Indeed, when the bed was deployed, it took up nearly the entire room.

The first day in the flat, Thomas pulled down the bed and lay upon it. "Not too bad," he said. "Certainly no worse than what we had at Downton."

Suddenly, Jimmy pounced on Thomas like a large cat, kissing him and tugging at his clothes. "Let's give it a try," he said lustily. Jimmy shed his clothes, tossing them to the floor. Thomas followed suit.

They had sex twice that first day, again that night, and somewhere in the wee hours, as the sky was turning gray, Jimmy climbed onto Thomas and they had sex yet again. The following morning, as Jimmy stood at the mirror fiddling with his hair, Thomas came up behind him, and they did it for a fifth time.

Thomas then declared their New York City flat officially christened "Our Home."

It was wonderful to finally sleep together in the same bed all night and do whatever they wanted as often as they wanted without worrying about somebody bursting in on them.

They shared their bath with a young couple down the hall, which was far fewer people than they'd shared the one male-servants' bath with at Downton.

Their flat had no kitchen, but they were able to use the one behind the Lowenstein clock shop directly below, which had a large sink, stove, and icebox. This is where they kept their meager cooking supplies and groceries.

Mrs. Lowenstein, Mariam, was a wonderful cook, especially of Jewish cuisine. She was also generous and insisted on feeding Thomas and Jimmy, as well as Garrett and herself, so the men rarely had to use the kitchen at all.

The Lowenstein's only son, Abraham, had died in The Great War, and they knew that Thomas had also served in this war and in fact been shot during it. They did not, however, know _how_ he'd been shot, and Thomas and Jimmy agreed _never_ to tell them, which was probably wise....

Tuesday through Saturday, Thomas worked in the clock shop with Garrett. Jimmy would do any chores or shopping that needed to be done. When Mrs. Lowenstein would shop, Jimmy would accompany her and push the cart or carry the bags. Thomas had told him there was no rush to find a job, as their money situation was good. Jimmy liked Mrs. Lowenstein (and her potato pancakes) and said he'd rather serve her than the Crawleys any time.

After work, Thomas and Jimmy would go for long walks, exploring the city. Sometimes they would get dinner out, if they hadn't already eaten, or bring something back to the flat.

Sunday and Monday the shop was closed, and Thomas and Jimmy would walk for hours in Central Park, or take a streetcar or ferry somewhere. Jimmy especially liked Chinatown, trying all the exotic and strange seafood and vegetables. Thomas enjoyed the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Sunday mornings were spent in bed. Thomas would bring up tea and food from the kitchen, and then he'd read the paper while Jimmy snoozed beside him until eleven. They hadn't planned for this, but it had become their little routine.

One such Sunday, Jimmy was dozing, and he woke up--half woke up, actually. His back was to Thomas, but he could feel Thomas' leg against his spine and hear him turning the pages of his paper.

Jimmy was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment and security. He hadn't felt anything close to that since before the business with Christopher Glover back in England....

 _I want to feel like this forever_ , Jimmy thought. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, as the curtains moved in the breeze and the sounds of the city drifted up from the street below.

@@@

As Prohibition was in effect, there was no alcohol sold in the open, though the Lowenstein's managed to get a little wine for "religious purposes," which they shared with Thomas and Jimmy.

Alcohol was also available in the city's many speakeasies, in addition to wonderful music and entertainment. Every Saturday, Thomas and Jimmy would dress in their best and try a new speakeasy they'd heard about or a previous one they'd especially liked.

Tonight, it was the Cotton Club at 142nd and Lenox in Harlem.

Jimmy was particularly excited, as the Cotton Club was known for some of the best and most innovative jazz in the city. The Harlem Renaissance was in full swing, and there was a huge interest in African-American music and dance. White patrons were drawn by the lure of something "wild" and "exotic" (whether or not it was actually true), and this fact was fully exploited by the club.

Juxtaposed against conservative white attitudes about sex were dramatic, often jungle- or plantation-themed numbers performed by beautiful brown men and women, dressed in flamboyant, often skimpy costumes. The implication was savage, unbridled lust and sexual prowess.

The result was that the Cotton Club was packed to the rafters every night.

Thomas and Jimmy were dressed and groomed "to the nines," making them a stunning pair, and they had no problem gaining admittance to the club. Their table wasn't near the stage, but they had a clear view of it.

They ordered their drinks, and Thomas lit up a cigarette. The decor of the club included fine furnishings, fake palm trees, and dramatic lighting.

The show began with a chorus of beautiful girls in bright feather costumes and matching head dresses. They rounded the stage and danced for a minute, then the chorus line parted in the middle, and out slid two gents in top hats and tails who began tap dancing with amazing speed and synchronicity.

The entertainers were all black, most of them light skinned and appearing to be bi-racial or mixed with other ethnicities. The majority appeared to be in their twenties, though some of the female dancers appeared younger.

The customers were all white. It would be several years before blacks were allowed into the Cotton Club as patrons.

Jimmy was taking in the sights and sounds with an expression of wonderment. The atmosphere of the club was unlike any they'd ever seen before. Suddenly, Jimmy's eyes grew large.

"Thomas! Charlie Chaplin is here! Over there to the right of the stage, look!"

Thomas leaned over and craned his neck to see. "Blimey, Jimmy, so he is!" Thomas continued to look. "Where's his latest young girl?"

"Says the chap who robbed _my_ cradle," Jimmy teased, grinning his curly grin.

Thomas exhaled a stream of smoke and tapped off his ashes elegantly.  He grinned. "I didn't have to rob it, love.  You stripped off your nappy and jumped right into my arms."

Jimmy laughed, nearly choking on the piece of ice he'd been sucking on.

Thomas was glad to see Jimmy so thoroughly enjoying himself. Jimmy had been profoundly depressed when they'd left Downton months earlier. He'd been barely functioning: eating, sleeping, muddling through his tasks; that had been about it. His eyes had been glazed, dull, and sad, as he'd wandered about in his fog....

Now, Jimmy was excited and engaged, his eyes full of life. He was the way he was when Thomas had first met him.

The sight of it brought joy to Thomas. He was enjoying the show immensely, but seeing Jimmy's excitement was the best thing of all....

The next act was being introduced. "And now, the Cotton Club's own Darcy Haywood singing 'I've Found a New Baby,' accompanied by her brother, Ambrose Haywood, on trumpet, and The Haywood Band."

The singer was exquisite. She had caramel-colored skin and wide-set, green, catlike eyes fringed with dark lashes. Her short, dark hair lay in waves against her head. She wore a shimmering emerald gown that clung to her slender figure.

Darcy Haywood began to sing. Her voice was clear and smooth, her style a tad sassy:

 _Everybody look at me,_  
_Happy girlie, you will see,_  
_I've got someone nice, oh, gee!_  
_Oh, joy, what bliss!_

 _Just the treasure that I need,_  
_Pure as gold and guaranteed,_  
_Is he handsome? Yes, indeed!_  
_Let me tell you this:_

 _I found a new baby,_  
_A sweet honey boy;_  
_My fashion-plate baby_  
_Has thrilled me with joy!_

 _His new way of lovin'_  
_Has made me his slave;_  
_His sweet turtle dovin'_  
_Is all that I crave!_

 _Sweetest kiss, what a kiss, full of bliss, can't resist, somehow!_  
_Tells me lies, but he's wise, naughty eyes mesmerize, I vow and how!_

 _I don't mean maybe,_  
_I just had to fall;_  
_I found a new baby,_  
_A new baby, that's all!_

Ambrose Haywood broke in with his trumpet solo. He was a male version of his beautiful sister. His trumpet wailed and called from the stage. His style was a touch sassy, like his sister's singing, and he almost seemed to tease her with his playing. The siblings exchanged looks a few times during the solo, Darcy appearing to be mildly annoyed, and Ambrose swaying and cocking his head with attitude in response. It was obviously part of the act, and it was delightful.

Darcy continued to sing, and Ambrose's trumpet played in the background.

 _I found a new baby,_  
_A sweet honey boy;_  
_My fashion-plate baby_  
_Has thrilled me with joy!_

 _His new way of lovin'_  
_Has made me his slave;_  
_His sweet turtle dovin'_  
_Is all that I crave!_

 _Sweetest kiss, what a kiss, full of bliss, can't resist, somehow!_  
_Tells me lies, but he's wise, naughty eyes mesmerize, I vow and how!_

 _I don't mean maybe,_  
_I just had to fall;_  
_I found a new baby,_  
_A new baby, that's all!_

Jimmy was mesmerized, his eyes fixed on the stage. There was an energy in this place, you could feel it, especially from this particular act.

When the performers finished, the club exploded with applause. Some patrons threw money onto the stage, which Nancy gracefully retrieved.

Afterwards, Jimmy turned to Thomas. "I _must_ meet them," he declared.

"Meet them?" Thomas said, surprised. "The performers? How?"

"Backstage."

"They won't let you back there," Thomas said. "You'll run into a bouncer."

"I can try," said Jimmy. "I'll say I'm a fan. I'll be charming. Come with me, Thomas."

Thomas shook his head and nursed his drink. "You go, love," he said, amused. "Have your adventure. I'll wait here."

Jimmy stood up.

"Good luck." Thomas grinned.

Jimmy gave him a wink and headed across the club.

As Thomas predicted, he was stopped by a bouncer.

"Excuse me," Jimmy began. "Please, I'd like to tell Mr. Haywood and his band how wonderful they were. I'm a huge fan all the way from England."

"They're next door," said the bouncer. "That's where the performers go."

Jimmy walked out the back door and into the building directly next door....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I've Found a New Baby"  
> By Jack Palmer and Spencer Williams  
> 1925


	2. Chapter 2

When Jimmy walked into the building next door, he was definitely the lightest person there, and his yellow hair only made him more conspicuous. The room was a hall of sorts, with a piano and a small bar. It was filled with performers, eating, drinking, smoking, relaxing.

"Can I help you?" Darcy Haywood asked, emerging from the crowd.

"Oh, hello, you're Darcy Haywood, yes? My name is Jimmy Kent, and I just had to tell you how brilliant I thought you and your brother were."

Darcy smiled warmly. "Well, thank you, Jimmy Kent. That's so kind of you to come back here to tell us that."

Ambrose Haywood saw Jimmy and joined him and Darcy. Introductions were made.

"You and your band were bloody _fantastic_ ," Jimmy gushed to Ambrose.

Ambrose Hayward grinned, used to such praise. He gave Jimmy the once over, obviously liking what he saw. "Your accent," said Ambrose. "English, right?"

"Yorkshire, England," Jimmy said.

"Our grandpappy was English," Darcy said. "That's where me n' Ambrose get our eyes."

"They're very nice," said Jimmy.

Ambrose smiled his wide, easy grin. "So, Jimmy Kent of Yorkshire, England, do you play?"

"Yes, piano," Jimmy replied.

"You any good?" Ambrose asked.

"Some people think so."

"Let's hear you."

Ambrose led Jimmy to the piano. Jimmy slid into the seat, lay his fingers on the keys, and began to warm up, obviously very much at ease with the keyboard. "Ah, it feels wonderful to play again." He grinned his curly grin.

"Don't you have a piano?" said Ambrose.

"No, and I really miss that," said Jimmy. "We had one in the servants' hall of the house where I worked in England, but our flat here doesn't have room for one."

" _Our_ flat?" Ambrose asked.

"Yes, Thomas and mine," said Jimmy. "He's my...friend."

Ambrose's eyes flickered with interest.

"I can play the piano section for 'I've Found a New Baby,'" Jimmy said. "I can do it normally or add a piano solo to it, something like this...," Jimmy did a little improvisation.

Ambrose raised his eyebrows, and the hall grew quiet as the others listened to Jimmy play.

"That's a wicked riff, Jimmy," said Ambrose.

"A what?"

"Refrain," said Ambrose. "I like it."

"You know 'Cake Walking Babies From Home'"? Jimmy asked.

Ambrose nodded and picked up his trumpet. He began to play.

Jimmy joined in, improvising here and there to complement Ambrose on the trumpet. It appeared effortless and natural, like two boys playing a game.

Afterwards, the others all applauded.

"You're _good_ , Jimmy," said Ambrose.

"Thank you!" Jimmy said, obviously flattered by this praise from Ambrose. "'Cake Walking' is one of my favorites."

"You know what cake walkin' is?" Ambrose asked with a mischievous grin.

"It's a dance," Jimmy replied.

"Yes...," said Ambrose, "but do you know where it came from?"

Jimmy shook his head.

"It's from slave times," Ambrose explained, "when the slaves used to make fun of how the white folks walked, all stiff and proper."

"They still walk like that in England," said Jimmy.

Ambrose laughed. "I'm sure they do."

"Thomas and I worked in service."

"Military service?" Ambrose asked.

"No, _people_ service," said Jimmy. "We were servants."

"Thomas is the guy you live with," said Ambrose.

"Yes," said Jimmy. "He's back in the club right now."

"What did you do in service?"

"I was a footman, and Thomas was the under butler."

"Dare I ask what a footman does?" Ambrose asked, grinning.

"Anything and everything. It's a bit like slavery, sort of...," Jimmy said awkwardly. He immediately regretted the comparison.

Ambrose didn't seem to mind. "Only in service, you can _leave_. Nobody whips you. Nobody owns you."

"But you need a reference," Jimmy said, "or you'll never get another job."

Ambrose laughed again. "Well, you got me there, Jimmy. Ain't no slave ever needed a reference." He continued laughing, and Jimmy relaxed.

"Our piano player is leaving us for Chicago," said Ambrose. "I'm auditioning replacements--"

"Can I try for the job?" Jimmy interrupted.

"You can't join our band, Jimmy," said Ambrose.

"Why not?"

"Because you're _white_."

Jimmy looked crestfallen.

"You can't have white folks playin' in black bands, and vice versa," said Ambrose. "It just ain't done."

"That seems very unfair," said Jimmy.

Darcy had rejoined them at the piano, and she smiled at Jimmy's sincerity. "It's the way things are, sugar."

"It should change," Jimmy said. "Music has no color, it's universal."

Ambrose nodded. "I agree. But I don't make the rules."

"In England, the classes don't mix," said Jimmy. "At the house Thomas and I worked in, the chauffeur married Lady Sybil, and they had a rough time of it. The family finally accepted him, but most everyone else did not."

"Now _that_ sounds like a story," said Darcy, resting her arms on the piano.

Jimmy nodded. "Yes, Lady Sybil died right after giving birth, and now the chauffeur is raising their daughter."

"Really???" Darcy said.

"What I wanted to _say_ , Jimmy," said Ambrose, trying to recapture the conversation, "is that you are welcome to rehearse with us until we find a replacement pianist," said Ambrose. "You'd be helping us and getting some time on the ivories. Interested?"

Jimmy became very excited. "Very!"

"Can you come on Monday?"

"Not Monday, that's one of Thomas' days off, and I spend it with him," said Jimmy, "but I can come Tuesday."

"Until Tuesday then. Anytime after 11:00 a.m. is fine."

"Until Tuesday. Oh, wait until I tell Thomas about this. Good bye, Ambrose! Good bye, Darcy!" Jimmy hurried towards the door.

"Good bye, Jimmy Kent of Yorkshire." Ambrose grinned as he watched Jimmy leave.


	3. Chapter 3

On Tuesday, Jimmy arrived at the hall around 11:00 a.m. The place was empty, except for Ambrose, Darcy, and a few others milling about. It was still early for these night performers.

"Help yourself to the booze and food," Darcy told Jimmy.

Jimmy made himself a drink, grabbed a biscuit, and sat at the piano. He began warming up, doing scales and then launching into Scott Joplin's "Gladiolus Rag."

Ambrose sipped his brew and leaned against the piano. "Dang, Jimmy," he exclaimed. Where'd you learn to play like that?"

"Years of lessons playing classical music," Jimmy replied. "I hated it at first, but at some point, that changed, and I began to love it."

"I taught myself the trumpet," said Ambrose. "Me n' Darcy are from a family of singers. I had some lessons in my teens, readin' music and all, but I was already playin' for pay by then. I can also play cornet and French horn."

Around one, someone brought in a tray of sandwiches. Ambrose and Jimmy began eating the sandwiches and drinking more booze....

Ambrose gave Jimmy the sheet music for "Sweet Georgia Brown." Jimmy went through it a few times and had it down pat.

"You learn fast," Ambrose commented.

They rehearsed the song, Ambrose on his trumpet, Jimmy on the piano, and the rest of the band playing their respective instruments.  
  
Darcy joined them for awhile to practice the lyrics for "Sweet Georgia Brown."

After several hours, everyone took a break. Somebody had opened a bottle of peach brandy and was passing it around. Jimmy had two shots.

Ambrose gracefully slid onto the piano bench, straddling it with his long legs, and set his hands on his knees.

"So, Jimmy...," Ambrose began. "Who is Thomas to you?"

"He's my friend," said Jimmy. "We were in service together."

"So you told me," said Ambrose, "but is he a close friend, like a brother?"

"He's my best friend. We live together."

"What's your flat like?"

"Small," said Jimmy. "One room, a Murphy bed, you know, that pulls down from the wall? Thomas and I share it." Jimmy immediately felt foolish. _Why_ was he telling Ambrose about their bloody Murphy bed???

"Must make it hard to entertain lady friends," Ambrose said.

"Oh, well, we don't, well...," Jimmy stammered. "We don't entertain much, as there's barely room for the two of us."

"Uh-huh...." Ambrose nodded.

"With the bed down, especially," Jimmy continued.

"I see...."

"It's a rather large bed, you know, and it pulls right down from the wall...."

Ambrose was sitting very close now. Jimmy could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his skin. Jimmy could see that the green of his eyes was flecked with gold. They were rimmed with dark, fringe-like lashes, just like his sister's.

Jimmy was suddenly aware that they were all alone in the hall, over in the corner at the piano....

Ambrose leaned in, closing his eyes, and gently kissed Jimmy's mouth. His lips were velvety soft. He pulled back and regarded Jimmy from slitted, catlike eyes.

Jimmy's head was swimming with the effects of all the alcohol. He didn't look at Ambrose. He didn't move. He didn't do anything except breathe.

Ambrose kissed Jimmy again, this time snaking his tongue into Jimmy's mouth. He put his arms around Jimmy's waist and pulled him closer.

Jimmy felt his body responding, but it felt _wrong_.

"No, Ambrose." Jimmy pushed Ambrose's arms away.

"Why not?" Ambrose murmured.

"I'm _with_ Thomas," Jimmy said. "I _love_ Thomas."

"So?" said Ambrose. "We're just havin' fun."

Ambrose tried to kiss Jimmy again, but Jimmy stood up. "This will _hurt_ him, Ambrose."

Ambrose clicked his tongue. "How will he know?"

" _I'll_ know."

Ambrose studied Jimmy, and Jimmy met his gaze. "You're serious," said Ambrose.

"I really have to go." Jimmy grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

"I hope you'll still come rehearse with us on Thursday, Jimmy," Ambrose called. "You really are _good_."

Jimmy nodded and waved.

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Jimmy entered the flat, Thomas could smell the alcohol on him, but he didn't comment. He was sitting at the small table by the window logging receipts into the clock shop's journal.

"So how was it?" Thomas asked.

"Just wonderful, Thomas," Jimmy said, hanging up his jacket. "Playing the piano again and with a real band. They've invited me back Thursday."

As Jimmy approached him, Thomas could smell something else.... "Whose cologne is that?"

Jimmy looked sheepish. "Ambrose kissed me."

Thomas was stunned. "He _kissed_ you?"

"Yes, we were drinking and playing, and it just happened."

"And...?"

"That's it," said Jimmy. "It felt wrong, and I came home."

 _Careful_.... Thomas warned himself. _This is all new to him_....

"Look, Jimmy, I understand," he said with forced calmness. "I'm the only lover you've ever had, you want to experiment...."

"It was a _kiss_ , Thomas, that's all," said Jimmy. "There was no 'experimenting.' I don't want to 'experiment' with anyone except _you_."

Thomas didn't say anything.

"Don't look at me like that, Thomas, please."

"Did you enjoy it?" Thomas asked.

"I don't know...it was a kiss," Jimmy said uncomfortably. "I didn't feel anything, and when he tried it again, I left."

"How many times did he kiss you, Jimmy?" Thomas asked in a steady tone, though inside he was a wreck. Was Jimmy curious about being with other men???

"Twice," Jimmy replied, obviously upset. "When he tried a third time, I left. I told Ambrose that I love you, I'm with you, and that was the end of it."

Thomas looked away, fighting desperately to control the flood of emotions raging through him: jealousy, panic, insecurity, fear....

"Can we go for our walk and get some dinner, _please_?" Jimmy asked. "I'm starving."

Thomas forced a smile and closed the journal. "Yes, let's go."

@@@

They returned from their walk and dinner in Chinatown several hours later. Thomas had barely locked the door, when Jimmy was all over him, kissing him, undoing his pants.

Thomas met Jimmy's lust with his own, picking him up, tossing him onto the bed, and straddling him. Thomas grabbed Jimmy's arms and pinned them to the bed. He gazed into Jimmy's eyes with an intense expression, wishing to god he could read his mind....

 _Are you thinking about that musician and his kisses, Jimmy?_ Thomas desperately wanted to know. _Are you wondering what his cock would taste like or how it would feel inside of you...?_

Jimmy's deep blue eyes gave him no answers, as they stared back at Thomas just as intensely.

"You know, it's common to be curious and want to experiment when you first realize ya fancy chaps," Thomas said.

"So, let's experiment then," Jimmy replied.

"Did you have somethin' in mind...?" Thomas asked.

"You tell me...." Jimmy said provocatively. He continued to stare at Thomas. "Anything you want."

"Anything...?"

"Tell me what you _want_ , Thomas."

Thomas paused for a moment, thinking. Finally he spoke. "I want to _have_ you while you are completely powerless and I control everything."

Jimmy grinned. "Is there a message here, love...?"

Thomas just stared at him. "Let me control _everything_ , Jimmy...."

"Do it," said Jimmy.

"Strip down and lie on your back."

Jimmy obediently began to undress.

Thomas got two ties out of the armoire, and Jimmy lay on his back. Thomas tied each of Jimmy's wrists loosely with a tie, securing the other ends to to the metal bars of the headboard. Then, Thomas shed his own clothes, got the petroleum jelly from the cupboard, and climbed onto the bed.

"If you get scared or want to stop, just say Carson," said Thomas. "That'll be our word to stop."

"Carson???" said Jimmy, making a face. "Blimey, that'll kill it, fer sure."

"Exactly," said Thomas. His eyes swept over the bed. "I can't tell you what seeing ya like this does to me, Jimmy," said Thomas, his voice hoarse with lust.

Jimmy grinned. "I can see it in yer face, and" --seeing Thomas' erection-- "elsewhere."

Thomas got on all fours, straddling Jimmy, and lowered his upper body to rest on his forearms. He kissed Jimmy deeply, and Jimmy met his kisses with equal passion.

He ran his hands through Jimmy's hair and kissed his neck and shoulders.

Thomas began working his way down Jimmy's beautiful body. He took his time, savoring the smoothness of the tawny skin and the sounds Jimmy made as Thomas kissed and licked his armpits and nipples.

After all, Jimmy wasn't going anywhere....

Finally he moved between Jimmy's legs.

"Bend yer knees," Thomas murmured.

Jimmy obeyed.

Thomas dipped his fingers into the jelly and began gently sliding them into Jimmy--first one, then two--stroking him inside and moving them in and out.

Jimmy began moaning, "Oh, god, Thomas, I want you so much. I'm aching for you. I want you inside of me."

Jimmy was fully aroused now, hard as stone, and his pupils were so dialated, his eyes were nearly black. Thomas put his mouth on Jimmy's cock, licking and flicking it with his tongue, while still moving his fingers inside of him. Jimmy began rocking his hips.

"I want you, Thomas," Jimmy said. "I want you _inside_ of me. I want you _now_."

Thomas just smiled to himself and continued to tease Jimmy with his fingers and tongue. _He_ would decide when to give it to Jimmy. Besides, the longer he could draw it out, the better it was going to be for both of them.

Jimmy's half-closed eyes were begging. "Please, Thomas, take me. Get me off before I explode."

Thomas continued to grin and tease, and Jimmy writhed in delicious ecstasy.

"Thomas, ah, _Thomas_ ," Jimmy moaned. "Dear god, I need you _inside_ of me. I need you _now_."

Thomas got to his knees and slid a pillow under Jimmy's arse, bringing him to cock level. He put Jimmy's legs up over his shoulders.

Thomas applied the jelly to himself and began slowly easing into Jimmy, working Jimmy's cock with his other hand.

As Thomas entered him, Jimmy's tense expression melted into one of pure pleasure, and he moaned, long and low, closing his eyes.

Thomas varied his strokes, going slow and deep, shallow and fast, slow and deep....

"Aaaaugh," Jimmy moaned, lifting his head off the bed and pulling at the ties. "I'm fecking on fire. Aaaaahhh, harder, Thomas...."

Thomas quickened his pace.

"Ah, _Christ_ , Thomas!" Jimmy moaned. "Aaa, aaa, aaa, _harder_ , Thomas!"

Thomas began pumping even faster. Jimmy flexed his knees more, resting his heels on Thomas shoulders.

Thomas was consumed by lust, his eyes half shut and out of focus, his mouth slack. His hair had fallen forward, and the sweat was dripping off him.

Jimmy began babbling gibberish with every stroke Thomas made. "Aaaagh, god, Thomas, aaa, aaa, aaa, oh, God, Thomas, ah, ah, jay-sus, aaa."

Thomas had never seen Jimmy so completely undone, sobbing and whimpering with pleasure that he, Thomas, totally controlled. Jimmy's beautiful golden arms flexed as he strained at the ties. It was the most erotic thing Thomas had ever seen--a euphoric power rush--and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to come, as he wanted to make this as good for Jimmy as it was for him, and for him it was incredible.

Thomas continued to pound Jimmy's arse and stroke his cock. He could hear from Jimmy's breathing that he was close.

Jimmy arched up off the bed, his hands balling into fists. His eyes closed, and his head lolled back, "Oh, goooood, oooooooooh Thoooooomas...," he moaned, sobbing as he came, erupting like a volcano in Thomas' hand.

Immediately Thomas came inside of Jimmy. "Keeeeeeeey-riiiiiiiste almighty, Jiiiimmyyyy, aaaah, oooh, I woooorshiip you," he moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, then bringing it forward as he rode out his climax.

When they'd both finished, Thomas extricated himself from Jimmy's arse and legs and fell face down on the bed.

Jimmy was panting, his blond waves plastered to his forehead with sweat. " _That_ was fecking _amazing_."

Thomas lifted his upper body and undid the ties. Then he flopped back down into the pillow.

"I want to do it to you next time," said Jimmy.

Thomas nodded into the pillow.

"I want to control _you_ ," Jimmy said.

Thomas peeked up at Jimmy. "You already _do_."

Jimmy kissed Thomas and grinned his curly grin.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

By Thursday Jimmy was itching to get at the piano again, to play and improvise with Ambrose.

"I'm going to rehearse with Ambrose and his band today," Jimmy told Thomas down in the shop.

Thomas didn't look up from the clock he was repairing. He didn't want Jimmy to go, but he knew how much Jimmy loved his music....

"Nothing will happen, Thomas, I promise," Jimmy said, reading Thomas' expression. "I'll be back in time to walk and dine with you."

Thomas nodded but kept his eyes on the clock. "Enjoy your playing, Jimmy."

Jimmy approached Thomas behind the counter. Garrett was away, and the two men were out of view. Jimmy caressed Thomas' cheek and kissed him deeply. "I love and want _only_ you," he said, looking into Thomas' eyes. "Never doubt that."

"I love _you_ ," said Thomas.

@@@

When Jimmy arrived at the hall, Ambrose was next door at the Cotton Club, but Darcy was there. She introduced Jimmy to her boyfriend, Martin. He was tall and very well built. He didn't smile, but nodded a greeting to Jimmy, tipping his fedora.

"Martin is good to me, and he's great in the sack," Darcy volunteered after Martin had left. "So, Jimmy, tell me about your Thomas."

"He's my best friend," said Jimmy.

"He's _more_ than your friend, Jimmy," said Darcy with a knowing grin. "I grew up with Ambrose, I _see_ these things."

"Thomas is...amazing," said Jimmy, also grinning. "He's brave, clever, witty--though it can be a biting wit, if he's out for ya. He's very kind...to me, anyway. I wouldn't want to be on his bad side, though."

"That's how I feel about Martin," said Darcy. "He can be a bit scary to other folks, but not to me."

"Thomas is the most interesting person I've ever known," said Jimmy. "He never bores me. Never. As soon as I think I truly know him, he'll say or do something that shows me a completely new side. And besides all that, he's beautiful. Tall, handsome. Like a painting. He still takes my breath away." Jimmy laughed, slightly embarrassed.

"Sounds like yer in loooove," Darcy cooed. "It's nice, huh?"

Jimmy nodded.

Ambrose had returned and was listening to this conversation from where he stood by the piano. "Ready to play, Jimmy?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Jimmy answered.

Darcy touched Jimmy's arm. "Watch yourself, Jimmy," she warned in a low voice. "My brother likes the chase, and he's used to gettin' what he's after. He's very charming, and he knows how to use it. He could charm the skin off a snake."

Jimmy grinned. "People used to say that about me. Maybe that's why Ambrose and I have become friends. That and music."

Ambrose and Jimmy played for several hours with the rest of the band. Then the tray of sandwiches arrived, and everyone took a break.

Ambrose brought out a jar containing a clear liquid. He poured himself a glass.

"What's that?" Jimmy asked.

"Hootch," Ambrose replied. "Homemade whiskey. Old family recipe." Ambrose poured another glass and gave it to Jimmy.

Jimmy tried it.

"Good, huh?" Ambrose said.

Jimmy took another sip. "It's delicious."

After Jimmy had finished that glass, Ambrose poured him another. Pretty soon, Jimmy was feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Ambrose, I think I need to rest awhile," he said. "That hootch is strong stuff."

"No problem," said Ambrose. "I have to audition a pianist nextdoor. Find a comfortable spot and relax."

Ambrose left, and Jimmy looked for a place to lie down. At the back of the hall was a pile of instrument covers and moving blankets. Jimmy lay down on the pile, closed his eyes, and promptly fell asleep.

Jimmy awoke at some point, and his head was still spinning. He could hear Darcy yelling at Ambrose.

"Ambrose, _why_ did you give him the hootch?"

"I just wanted to relax him."

"No, you just wanted to _screw_ him, don't lie to me, I _know_ you," said Darcy. "Always gotta be messin' with folks."

"I didn't know he'd react to it like that," said Ambrose.

" _Everyone_ reacts like that if they ain't used to the hootch," Darcy said. "Jimmy's a sweet guy with a good man, and you need to leave him _be_."

@@@

Jimmy woke up on a red, velvet couch. There was a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. His shoes were next to the couch and his jacket neatly folded on the coffee table.

Darcy came out in a silky pink robe and matching slippers. Her head was covered with little bobbypin curlers. Her face was bare, and she looked younger but still beautiful. "Good morning, sleepyhead." Darcy smiled. "How y'feelin'?"

Jimmy tried to sit up and winced, rubbing his skull. His head was throbbing. "Morning?" he asked. "What d'ya mean morning?"

"I mean it's morning, as in the day after yesterday," said Darcy wryly.

"Ya mean I was here all night???"

"That's the hootch."

"Oh, god, I have to get home." Jimmy sat up and began hurriedly putting on his shoes. "How did I get here?"

"Martin and I brought you," said Darcy. "No way I was leaving you in the hall with Ambrose. Stay for breakfast? I'm making waffles."

"Thank you, Darcy, but I need to get home. Thomas must be worried sick. Do ya have a phone?"

"Yes."

Jimmy asked the operator for a number. After a few minutes, he hung up. "There's no answer at the shop."

Jimmy threw on his jacket and headed for the door. "Thanks for everything, Darcy."

"Hope everything's okay at home," Darcy called as Jimmy hurried down the hall.

"So do I...," Jimmy replied.

 


	6. Chapter 6

When Jimmy got home, Thomas was standing at the window, smoking a cigarette. He spun around when Jimmy walked in.

"Where in the bloody hell _were_ you???" Thomas asked. He looked exhausted, and his face was lined with worry.

"I'm so sorry Thomas. I drank the hootch and fell asleep."

"The hootch?"

"Homemade whiskey," Jimmy clarified. "Very strong. Knocked me out, and I slept it off on Darcy's couch."

Thomas just shook his head and laughed in annoyance. He jammed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "I called the police, I checked the hospitals, I even went to the Cotton Club. Nobody knew _where_ you were."

"I said I was sorry, Thomas. I didn't know the hootch would hit me like that."

"What _else_ happened?" Thomas asked. "Between you and Ambrose?"

"Nothing," said Jimmy. "Nothing happened."

Thomas looked skeptical.

"What?" said Jimmy. "You don't believe me?"

"Based on what you've told me about Ambrose and how I _know_ you are when you drink, should I?" said Thomas acidly. "Would _you_ , in my shoes?"

"What are you sayin'...?" Jimmy asked.

Thomas was yelling at this point. "I'm sayin' it wouldn't surprise me if you came in here and said, 'Thomas, Ambrose and I _had_ each other last night, and we were too _drunk_ to stop it, _so_ sorry!'"

Jimmy's eyes grew huge, and his face registered profound hurt.

"That would _never_ happen!" he yelled. "How can you even _think_ that, Thomas? You actually believe I would do _that_ with anybody except you?"

Thomas was taken aback by the intensity of Jimmy's reaction. "It's the drink I don't trust, Jimmy, not you."

Jimmy began feeling sick, like he might be ill at any moment. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. "I, I need to leave," he said, heading back to the door. The room was suddenly oppressively stuffy. Jimmy opened the door.

"Where are you going?" Thomas asked. "Jimmy, don't leave, please!"

Jimmy ran out of the flat, down the stairs, and out onto the sidewalk. He could hear Thomas coming down the stairs after him, calling his name. Jimmy took off down the street.

After running for several blocks, Jimmy ducked into an alley and threw up. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

Jimmy wandered the streets for hours, somehow ending up back at Darcy's.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Darcy opened the door. She was dressed now, and the pin curlers were gone.

"I'm sorry for bothering you like this," said Jimmy. "Thomas and I had a terrible fight, and I didn't know where else to go."

Jimmy reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes and found his face was wet with tears. He hadn't even realized he was crying.

"No, it's all right, sugar," said Darcy. "This is all my brother's fault, you come on in. Want some waffles?"

"My stomach is a mess."

"That's the hootch," said Darcy. "How about some chicken soup?"

While he ate the soup, Jimmy told Darcy about the fight. "Thomas said he wouldn't be surprised if I'd slept with Ambrose last night."

"Sounds like he knows my brother," said Darcy.

"He also knows _me_ , and that's what hurts," said Jimmy. "I would _never_ do that to him. I would _never_ sleep with somebody else."

Darcy sighed. "Jimmy, I gotta tell ya that after drinkin' the hootch yesterday, you were _really_ out of it. There's a sayin', you shouldn't get drunk with people you don't know, and you don't know my brother. If I'd left you there with him, anything could have happened to you, and I do mean _anything_."

Jimmy was quiet.

"Your Thomas sounds like a special guy and a love worth protecting. You have to protect it in New York, Jimmy. This ain't some English country estate."

"Yes," said Jimmy ruefully, "I'm quickly realizing that."

Darcy continued. "You and Ambrose may play well together, but he'll test you, and you gotta stand up to him. He'll respect you for it. Don't end up another notch on his bedpost, Jimmy. You wouldn't be the first guy he's charmed into the sack, and your relationship with Thomas wouldn't be the first he's wrecked...."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Thomas was sitting in bed, reading the paper when Jimmy got home. Jimmy stood by the bed with his hands in his pockets. The men surveyed each other for several moments.

"I'm sorry for putting you through all this, Thomas, truly, I am," said Jimmy.

Thomas folded the paper and sighed. "Jimmy, there was a time when I was happy to take whatever you were willing to give me, but now that I've had _all_ of you, I _won't_ settle for less because I _can't_."

"You don't have to," said Jimmy, "because you _still_ have all of me."

"I _want_ to believe that," said Thomas. "Really, I do...."

" _Why_ don't you trust me, Thomas?" said Jimmy. "You treat me like some child who can't control himself."

"As I said before, Jimmy, it's the drink I don't trust, not you."

Jimmy didn't answer. He recalled some of the things he'd done while drunk: losing money gambling, getting into brawls, vomiting on people, saying things he later regretted, passing out in the rehearsal hall, waving cash around at the Thirsk Fair and then wandering off into the woods with that wad of money in his pocket, which had ended with Thomas taking a beating that was meant for him....

Jimmy sat on the bed. "After I told you about Ambrose kissing me, the look on your face, Thomas...." He shook his head. "I realized I could hurt you badly, maybe even enough to _lose_ you."

"I thought the same thing after I made that comment about you and Ambrose," Thomas said. "I could see I'd hurt you, and it scared me. Then you ran out, and I panicked."

Jimmy took off his jacket and shoes and crawled across the bed to Thomas. He curled up next to him, resting his head against Thomas' shoulder, and put an arm across his chest.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Thomas," Jimmy said. "You mean everything to me. You're my life."

"And you're mine, Jimmy," said Thomas. "I can't imagine being without you." He wrapped his arms around Jimmy and kissed him. "We have to work together if we're to make a go of this," he continued. "We have to stay a team."

"I won't play piano with Ambrose anymore."

"No, Jimmy, he's your friend, it's good to have a friend, especially another musician, but you need to draw the line. _We_ have to come first."

"That's what Darcy said, stand up to Ambrose, and he'll respect me," said Jimmy.  "She also said we need to protect our love, even more so here in New York."

"Darcy sounds very wise."

"She is...."

They were both silent a moment.

"'Tis true I'm not the sharpest when I drink...." Jimmy admitted.

Thomas didn't say anything. Jimmy lifted his head to look at Thomas and grinned. "I can see you agree."

"You're not at your best," Thomas concurred.

"I won't drink anymore unless I'm out with you," said Jimmy. "And no hootch."

"I'd love to go out with you _more_ ," said Thomas, "but I'm helping Garrett run his business. I'm keeping the books, fixing clocks, learning the new ones. I can't be hung over and do that kind of work."

"Yer workin' for _us_ ," said Jimmy. "Yer supportin' _me_ , Thomas, you do _not_ need to make any excuses for why ya need yer wits about ya."

"And I know our flat is small and not ideal for us just startin' to live together," said Thomas, "but it's included with the job, and we're savin' money."

"The flat is _ours_ ," said Jimmy.

"And I know it's not the most excitin' time, lyin' here all of Sunday morn while I read," Thomas continued, "but after a week of work, I need that quiet time."

"I _enjoy_ that," said Jimmy. "I was just thinkin' last Sunday how lovely that was. Us in our own flat, in our own bed, you readin' the paper and me catchin' forty winks."

"Really?"

"Yes, I liked hearin' ya turn the pages. I felt very safe. I haven't felt like that since before...you know."

Tears came to Thomas' eyes. "Well, that makes it all worth it, Jimmy, it really does. Thank you for telling me that."

"Of course, love," said Jimmy. He grinned and caressed Thomas' cheek. "Now, what can I do to convince you that you still have all of me, hmmm...?"


	9. Chapter 9

Ambrose found a pianist for his band the following week, and the rehearsals with Jimmy ended.

Ambrose invited Thomas and Jimmy to the Cotton Club to hear the band play. After they were seated, Jimmy went to the hall to see if he could introduce Darcy and Ambrose to Thomas before the performance.

Darcy came over to the table a few minutes later, smiling broadly. "You _must_ be Thomas," Darcy said. "Lord have mercy, you _are_ handsome."

"Jimmy has told me lovely things about you, Darcy," said Thomas. "Thank you for looking out for him."

"I'm a sucker for nice guys," said Darcy, "and Jimmy's as sweet as they come. Why don't you come backstage for a sec, and I'll introduce you to Ambrose? Jimmy's playing the piano next door, and the management doesn't like us mixing with the customers in the club."

Thomas followed Darcy to the backstage entrance. "Wait here," Darcy said. "I'll send my brother out."

Darcy left, and soon, Thomas saw Ambrose approaching. He appeared to be around Jimmy's age and was slender and graceful, like a panther. As he came closer, Thomas could see that he was indeed a male version of his stunning sister, with the same green, catlike eyes.

_This one's used to getting his way,_ Thomas thought, _especially with men_.

Ambrose stopped in front of Thomas. He looked Thomas up and down, taking in the strikingly handsome face with its arresting blue eyes and the tall, well-built form that seemed made for a tuxedo.

" _Now_ I see why Jimmy won't fuck me," Ambrose said dryly.

Thomas extended his hand. "Lovely to make your acquaintance, as well, Ambrose."

Ambrose grinned, and the two men shook hands.

"It's just that I now understand what Jimmy's been talking about," Ambrose continued. "You are one tall drink of water."

"I'm guessing that's good?"

"Definitely."

"Well, you've made quite an impression on him, Ambrose," said Thomas.

"Not as much as you," said Ambrose. "He thinks you hung the moon."

"Not the moon...," said Thomas with grin, "but perhaps a star or two."

Ambrose smiled. He liked this man. "Jimmy is a very talented pianist," said Ambrose. "He has a great ear, terrific improv skills, and I like playing with him. If he were black, I'd have offered him that spot in our band. _That's_ how good he is."

"I know he appreciates that, Ambrose," said Thomas. "Coming from you, that's a real compliment."

"Well, I'd best get back," said Ambrose. "We go on soon. I'll go drag your boy off the ivories and send him back to you."

Thomas grinned. "Thank you."

"Oh, and Thomas," Ambrose added. "Whatever you're doing to Jimmy, you're doing it _right_. I respect that."

The two men regarded each other for a moment before Ambrose gracefully strode away.

@@@

Soon after, Jimmy returned to the table. "What have you done to Ambrose?" he asked Thomas wryly. "He said that you are a real prize, and if I don't treat you right, he's going to 'move in' on me."

"Move in?" said Thomas. "I don't think there's room in our bed for three."

"I think he means he's going to seduce you," said Jimmy, grinning.

"Are you jealous?" Thomas asked, amused.

"Yes, I'm bloody jealous," said Jimmy with mock indignation, "because I know if he ever gets you in the sack, he'll never give you up, and I will have lost you forever."

"You mean in bed?"

"Yes. That's what Darcy calls it. You are quite good in the sack, you know."

"Unfortunately for Ambrose, my heart belongs to a handsome, blond pianist," said Thomas. "I am under his spell."

"Yes, and that blond pianist wants to make sure you _stay_ that way, too," Jimmy said.

The show was starting, and Darcy, Ambrose, and The Haywood band were introduced. Darcy was singing the song they'd rehearsed together, "Sweet Georgia Brown."

Darcy sang, in her smooth, sassy voice:

_She just got here yesterday, Things are hot here now they say,_  
_There's a new gal in town._  
_Gals are jealous, there's no doubt. All the guys just rave about_  
_Sweet, Sweet Georgia Brown._  
_And ever since she came, the common folks all claim, say;_

_No gal made has got a shade on Sweet Georgia Brown._  
_Two left feet, but oh, so neat has Sweet Georgia Brown._  
_They all sigh and wanna die for Sweet Georgia Brown,_  
_I'll tell you just why, you know I don't lie (not much!)._  
_It's been said she knocks 'em dead when she lands in town._  
_Since she came why it's a shame how she's cooled 'em down._  
_Fellas that she can't get Must be fellas that she ain't met._  
_Georgia claimed her, Georgia named her, Sweet Georgia Brown._

_All you gals will get the blues, all you pals will surely lose._  
_And, there's but one excuse._  
_Now I've told you who she was, and I've told you what she does,_  
_Still, give this gal her dues._  
_This or pretty maiden's prayer is answered anywhere;_

Jimmy gazed at Thomas lovingly. His eyes shone. "You know, Thomas, Ambrose and I may have music, but you and I...well, we have _everything_. We have... _life_."

Thomas returned the look and smiled.

Under the table, Jimmy reached for Thomas' hand, and their fingers interlaced.

Darcy sang, while Ambrose's trumpet accompanied her:

_No gal made has got a shade on Sweet Georgia Brown._  
_Two left feet, but oh, so neat has Sweet Georgia Brown._  
_They all sigh and wanna die for Sweet Georgia Brown,_  
_I'll tell you just why, you know I don't lie (not much!)._  
_All those tips the porter slips to Sweet Georgia Brown_  
_They buy clothes at fashion shows for one dollar down._  
_Fellas, won'tcha tip your hats. Oh boy, ain't she the cats?_  
_Who's that mister, tain't her sister, It's Sweet Georgia Brown...._

@@@

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sweet Georgia Brown"  
> Ben Bernie, Maceo Pinkard & Kenneth Casey  
> 1925


End file.
